Kid Brother
by zevie
Summary: He's everyone's big brother. Even when he's just trying to get laid. One-shot.


**Kid Brother**

**Summary**: He's everyone's big brother. Even when he's just trying to get laid.

**A/N**: I haven't written anything is so long, I have no idea why this is suddenly the thing that I just _had _to write at three in the morning. Just something short and fluffy, I guess, inspired by the TV series, and the idiotic ideals of sex and what it means to be a man. I honestly don't know if I think it's realistic – but I guess like everything else I write, it's an experiment it what I can get away with. ;) Might have worked better with Steve. Probably. OH WELL. Anyway, I don't see these two paired together often, and it interests me. This is not slash, although I'm making it sound like it is.

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns Darrel Curtis and Dallas Winston and the universe they're fighting in.

xxxx

The girl behind the soda counter had honey blonde hair and the kind of pale pink complexion that could make her shine even in her cheesy, candy-striped soda shop uniform. Darry couldn't look away.

Not that he was really trying to anymore – not since she'd caught him looking, not since she'd started blushing and smiling and looking back.

She glanced at him again, and this time he hit her with a real smile, nothing subtle about it. Her brown eyes widened and her cheeks colored again, and even though he'd been there a half an hour already working on that one coke and waiting on Sodapop, Darry didn't think he'd mind sitting there all night.

She only hesitated a second then marched herself right up to him. "Want a refill? Or you going to chew that ice all night?"

Darry grinned. He liked a girl with guts. "Sure, I'll take a refill. If you're the one who brings it to me."

She blushed again and looked away, but she was smiling under that blush and it was all Darry could do to keep from asking her out right then and there.

_Patience, Curtis_, he admonished himself. Carol-Ann had broken up with him three months prior when she'd left for college up the east coast, and meeting girls was a heckuva lot harder when they weren't swarming you after football practice or between classes. There weren't exactly a ton of cute chicks on his roofing crew.

"You got a name?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

She didn't hesitate. "Julie."

He nodded and leaned in close. "I'm Darrel. But you can call me, Darry."

She blushed again, and he grinned again, and when she said: "I'll be right back with your coke, Darry," he knew he'd played it cool enough.

Darry wasn't a rookie in the love game and he wasn't about to blow his first chance in months acting like an overeager teenager. He needed this.

Darry chewed the straw from his empty coke and let his eyes drift downward from her hair as she turned away from him to serve someone else. Lord, how he needed this.

He almost leapt out of his skin when a hand came down on each of his shoulders.

"Howdy, Darry. Buy me a coke?"

Darry grimaced at the drawl. "Buy your own damn coke, hood."

The pressure on his shoulders increased. "Who you calling 'hood,' Curtis?"

Darry grabbed behind him without looking and came up with a fistful of white-blond hair. "The stick figure attached to this mop is who I'm calling 'hood.'"

He gave Dally a shake, just to show him who was boss, but let him go quick after that. Darry had twice the muscle on Dallas, but the kid was growing, and so was his ego. Darry was pretty sure he could still whip Dally, but he was also pretty sure that now he'd have to actually try – and he had other things to do tonight than get into it with some cocksure friend of Sodapop's.

"Whacha doing sitting by your lonesome here on a work night?" Dally said, running a hand through his hair like he could fix it that way.

"Mind your own business, _kiddo_," Darry drawled and he couldn't help smirking when Dallas glared at him. "What are _you _doing out on a school night?"

"No more of that. I quit." Dally slid onto the stool next to him, and Darry gave him a quick once over. Dirty jeans, dirty t-shirt, dirty hair, and Darry didn't miss the bruises peeking out from under the edges of his jacket around his collarbone and wrist. Not the good kind of bruises either.

"What do you mean you quit," Darry said flatly.

Dallas shrugged, but he didn't meet Darry's eyes. "I been sixteen a week now. Why the fuck would I go when I don't gotta?"

"Because you promised my mom. We all promised."

Dally swallowed and kicked at the counter. "Who cares. _I_ don't. I don't care. I hate school. School is dumb."

And that was how Darry figured they'd gone and kicked him out.

"You need a shave," he said finally, because he knew it would make Dally grin.

Dallas rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Yeah? Guess I forgot."

"High school chicks don't dig beards, Dally." He had to look hard at his empty glass to say that with a straight face. He'd seen every one of Soda's friends go a month without shaving, and no one would be the wiser. With that ridiculous hair color, Dallas had a better chance of sprouting wings than a decent moustache.

"Well, maybe I ain't into high school chicks," Dally mumbled.

Darry looked up from his glass in time for Julie to set down a full one next to it. He didn't miss the way Dally's eyes were drinking her in; it took all of a second for irritation to replace pity.

"Can I get you anything else?" Julie asked him. She was fidgeting with her apron, but Darry hadn't had time to think up a smart answer.

"You can get me something, darling," Dally drawled. "And you can put it on his tab."

Julie hesitated, looking askance at Darry. Darry nodded, trying another smile, but it felt weak. "Could you get him a coke, please?"

"Yeah, I feel like something sweet, _Julie._" Dally leaned across the countertop, and ran a finger across Julie's lapel, where her nametag was pinned. She jumped back and let out a tiny shriek.

Darry grabbed the back of Dally's jacket and pulled him back down onto the stool firmly. "Thanks, Julie."

"Sure," she said, uneasily and backed away from them.

Darry counted to ten before letting go of Dally's jacket. If Dallas messed this up for him, he was going to kick his ass, and screw the pity.

"Don't you have someplace more exciting to be," he said, trying, and failing, to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Nah. Supposed to meet your brother but I guess he forgot," Dally said. "Man, Soda's dumber than I am."

Darry leaned over and smacked him across the head. "Don't you talk about my kid brother that way, Dallas."

Dally's eyes narrowed and he gave Darry a considering look. For a second, Darry thought the kid was going to hit him back, but Dally only shrugged.

"Soda's running late," Darry said impatiently. "He'll be here, he told me he would. Why don't you go play something on the jukebox? I'll give you a dime."

Dally looked at him in disbelief. "I ain't four, Curtis. Why you trying to get rid of me?"

Julie chose that moment to come over with Dally's coke. Darry saw the recognition in the blond's eyes and he could have cursed. Anyone else might have ribbed him a little, but they would have helped him out, or known to steer clear at least. Dallas was probably going to ruin things for Darry just for kicks.

"Hey, _Julie_," Dally said, and Darry sighed, knowing he'd guessed right. "You like your job, here, _Julie_?"

Julie put the glass and a paper-covered straw down in front of Dallas. "Some nights."

"I'm in the market for a job," Dallas continued. "Seems I got some time on my hands now. Think maybe the two of us could work together real well, huh, Julie?"

Julie glanced at Darry and he couldn't help the exasperated look on his face. Her lips twitched.

"Oh well, honey," she said, leaning closer in to Dallas. "I bet the two of us could do a lot of things real well together."

Darry almost burst out laughing at the look on Dally's face: somewhere between delight and panic.

When Dally kept his fat mouth shut, Julie sashayed towards Darry. "You in the market for a job, too?"

Darry shook his head, and crossed his arms on the counter. "Nah. I work all day roofing houses. I only come here to relax – and for the company."

Date-ready wallet – check. Single and looking – check. Enough muscles to bench press her, and her fat best friend – check. He was giving her all the signals and he could tell from the way she was leaning in towards him that she was getting them alright.

"Roofing, huh," she murmured. "I should have guessed – you look plenty strong."

"Yeah, yeah, he's made of bricks. But so's his head, sweetheart."

Darry was going to break the kid into a million pieces.

Julie glanced at Dallas. "You don't have to be jealous."

Dally snorted. "Jealous? Nah, we're all real proud of Darry's giant freaking muscles."

"Dallas." Sodapop would have shut up at the warning tone in Darry's voice, but Dallas seemed to light up.

"Darry's so muscly we call him Big D," the blond went on, smiling wickedly. "Guess what the 'D' stands for?"

Julie grimaced and leaned away from the table. "Alright, boys," she said abruptly. "That'll be fifteen cents."

Darry handed over a quarter, but he could tell even a ridiculous tip wasn't going to get her to come back. He was going to kill Dallas dead.

Dally sucked noisily at his coke. "Aw, are you leaving, honey? What's the rush? We got all night."

Julie gave Dally an incredulous look and Darry bit back a groan. He wondered if Dallas had a clue how stupid his high school bullshit sounded to a grown woman.

"Oh, but sugar, it's almost nine," Julie said, widening her eyes. "Ain't it about your bedtime?"

She stomped away before Dally could respond.

"Thanks a whole helluva lot, kid," Darry snapped.

"Me?" Dally cried indignantly. "I almost had that chick, if you hadn't gone all He-Man and made her run away."

Darry shook his head in disbelief. "You really think you stood a chance, kid? I could have had her number if you weren't such a moron."

He should have known it was a mistake to call a kid who'd just got kicked out of school a moron, but he wasn't thinking straight. Dally swung at him wildly, and it connected, knocking Darry off his stool. A group of high school girls sitting behind them shrieked like they were the ones being hit.

Darry turned around, rubbing his jaw. It hurt more than he'd thought it would. Maybe Dallas wasn't all talk after all.

"Don't call me 'kid' no more," Dally said, panting slightly. Darry didn't miss the way his eyes darted towards the table of girls, and suddenly all the anger went out of him. He grinned.

"Sure thing, kiddo," he said and the fury in Dally's eyes made him laugh.

"You wanna take this outside, Curtis?" he said in a ragged voice.

It was going to happen sometime, anyway. Darry didn't really want to nail the kid, but Dally was going to keep trying until Darry fought him, and maybe it would do the kid some good to get knocked around a bit by someone decent for a change. He turned abruptly and walked out of the soda shop, heading into the alley between it and the hardware store next door.

He'd hardly stepped out of the street when Dallas was on him, all limbs and knuckles and teeth. Darry took a hit or two before he managed to get Dally off him, but then, even hitting the kid back hurt. He was all jean and bone. Darry's knuckles were scraped and screaming after ten seconds of swinging.

So he waited it out, dodging a few of Dally's punches and looking for an opening, and when he saw it he dove for it, nailing the kid hard in the solar plexus. Dally went down on all fours, gasping and hacking like he was puking up a kidney.

Darry crouched down after a minute, offering him a hand up, but Dally shoved him away and then swung at him. It hit Darry square in the temple and he went down, a ringing in his ears. Shit. The kid really _could _hit.

Before he knew it, Dally was straddling him. He could feel the weight of the blond pressing down on his chest – skinny or not, Darry wasn't thinking of him as a little kid now. The blond was _heavy_.

"What the hell man," Dally panted, and took a swing. Darry blocked it, barely in time, but the second swing clipped him and he tasted blood. "I could have had that chick."

Darry said nothing, let Dallas curse and holler himself winded again. He blocked Dally's next few hits, letting the dizziness pass, and waited again for the moment to learn the kid a good lesson.

Dally had good fighting instincts – Darry would admit that much. But that wasn't a surprise. Anyone who'd lasted in his conditions as long as Dally had was bound to pick up some habits for survival. But the blond wasn't a smart fighter. Even as he sat there, swinging with all his might at Darry's face and wearing himself out, Darry couldn't help but feel a little guilty for exploiting his advantage.

He waited until Dally took a split second breather, then thrust his left hand out blindly towards Dally's groin. As expected, Dally pushed himself up on his knees off Darry's midsection, both hands and his gaze flying down to intercept Darry's left hand, completely missing Darry's right hand as it shot out and grabbed the front of his t-shirt.

Darry twisted, one hand on Dally's thigh, the other in his shirt, and he rolled the blond right over twice, landing hard on Dally's right side, both his legs holding Dally's to the ground, Dally's right arm pinned under the bulk of Darry's weight. It only took another quick second before he caught the blond's left arm in his own, pulling it high above Dally's head and slamming it to the ground.

Darry hesitated a second, watching Dally wriggle in the hold, but the blond was going to keep fighting until he was beat for good. Darry hit him in the ribs with his right hand. But he couldn't stop himself from pulling the punch – a bit.

Dally wheezed when he was hit, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Darry hit him once more for good measure, then stopped, resting his free hand against Dally's heaving side.

"Alright? Next time you go after a girl I'm looking at, I'll break this arm," he said, giving Dally's left arm a tug.

"She wasn't," Dally gasped. "I w-w-as – you- you-"

"Shut up," Darry commanded. "You need to breathe or you'll puke and pass out, and I ain't carrying your smelly ass home, Winston."

"She was mine!"

Fucking kids, he thought. "Dally, she was a grown ass woman. She's not looking for some dirty, skinny, ugly, dumbass, shit-for-brains, virgin, hoody sixteen year old little boy."

"I ain't a virgin!"

Darry blinked, then let out a shout of laughter. "Of all the things I called you – that honestly pissed you off the most?"

Dally was glaring at him, his eyes shining and his face red with anger. "I ain't!"

Darry looked at him.

"Holy shit."

"I ain't!"

"Hooooolyyyyyy shit, Dallas."

All the fight had gone out of the kid. Darry guessed there was no point in proving you had balls if you weren't even using them.

He let go of Dally and sat up. "Never?"

"Fuck you," Dally spat. "That's not what I meant."

Darry shrugged. "It ain't a big deal. Just, not what you said before, you know?"

"Fuck off, quit telling lies."

Dally staggered to his feet and pulled a squashed pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lit one and took a shuddering drag off of it, then coughed out a lungful of smoke, rubbing his ribs.

"You're making shit up in your head, Curtis," he said hoarsely. "I never said I never."

Darry got slowly to his feet. "You didn't have to. No wonder you're awful with pick up lines."

"Fuck. You." Dally said through clenched teeth. "I probably get more action than you, Curtis, now that you ain't the golden boy no more."

That hit a little too close to the truth for Darry's liking.

"Ain't no wonder why you're so high-strung," he said coolly. "Sixteen years of energy and nowhere to put it except your sock."

Even in the near pitch black of the alley, he could see Dally turn red. The blond swore softly, then turned abruptly and walked a ways down the alley, kicking half-heartedly at the trashcans.

Darry slapped his thighs with his palms, feeling stupid all of a sudden. Here he was, standing in the street fighting with some kid grease over a chick. He was supposed to know better than this. He was almost twenty, after all.

Dally was just a kid – Soda's age. Hell, when Darry had been fifteen – well he hadn't been a virgin, but then again, he'd had his dad's pickup truck and a letterman jacket and a three-pack of condoms he'd gotten for his birthday. Just shown up under his pillow like a post-puberty present from the toothfairy, and his old man playing the innocent, but grinning wild when Darry would come home too late and too happy and making a silent pact with his eyes not to tell Darry's mother.

He'd met Dally's dad once. In a church.

Darry growled a curse then followed Dallas down the alley.

Dally glanced up at him but said nothing, a fresh cigarette dangling from his mouth. Darry cleared his throat.

"It's not a big deal, you know. It'll happen."

"Oh, fuck your pity, Curtis, I don't need it," Dally snapped, flicking his cigarette in Darry's direction. "I get plenty of sex."

"Never with Sylvia?"

Dally was quiet a second. "Not yet," he said finally.

"Don't take this the wrong way now," Darry said carefully. "But she don't seem like the type to hold back."

"She already said yes. I told you. I never said I never."

"Right. So she said yes."

Dally glared at him.

"Then why didn't you … ?"

Dally swore. Put out his cigarette. Lit another. Shrugged.

Darry rubbed his jaw. It was starting to swell and he'd bit the inside of his lip. He should have been pissed at the kid. "You want some advice?"

"God. _No._"

"Quit trying so hard."

"Very fucking helpful."

"I mean it, Dallas. You are what you are, quit worrying so much about it."

"What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean."

Darry sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut. "It's supposed to mean that screwing isn't math class. You can't mix up the ends the way you do numbers."

Maybe it was his imagination but he thought he saw the kid smile at that.

"And the chicks you're trying to make it with – they ain't your mom."

"_Jesus Christ!"_

"I don't mean it like that, don't get gross. I mean, you been going out with Sylvia at least three months."

Dally dropped his cigarette. "You got a way with words, Curtis. What does that have to do with my _mother_?"

"Sylvia likes you, already."

"What? I know that."

"Do you?"

"Anyone ever tell you to shut the hell up?"

Darry shrugged. "Sure, Sodapop. And then I kicked his ass just like I did yours."

Dally looked up quick at the mention of Soda. "Don't tell me Soda-"

Darry snorted. "Are you kidding? That kid was getting laid at – too young, anyway. He ain't no fifteen-year-old virgin."

Dally made a face. "Sixteen."

Darry grinned. "Boy, you sure do have a talent for making things worse."

"Go fuck yourself, Darry," Dallas said flatly, kicking off from the wall of the alley. "I ain't a virgin and I don't need your shitty opinions and I don't need your shitty advice. I'm doing fine on my own."

"I know that," Darry said impatiently. "That's what I'm trying to tell _you_."

Dally shut up. _Finally._

Darry shoved his fists in his pockets. He was getting cold, and anyway, Soda should have been by with the truck by now.

"You know, you could have pulled your punches," he said suddenly and Dally looked at him quickly. "I'm gonna look like a chipmunk for a goddamned week."

Dally grinned at him, just like Darry knew he would. "Serves you right, old man."

Darry rubbed his jaw and turned back up the alley. "Yeah, well, don't forget I still won that fight."

"Only cuz I thought you were gonna grab my junk," Dally grumbled, following behind. "Damned dirty trick."

"Yeah, well, use it or lose it, punk," Darry quipped, then ducked as Dally aimed a punch at him.

He jogged to the mouth of the alley, and sure enough, there was Soda, racing down the street illegally in their dad's pickup.

"You want a ride?"

Dally had caught up to him. "Sure."

Darry glanced at him. He had new bruises forming from where Darry's fist had found his face, and maybe Darry was crazy, but they somehow looked different to him than the bruises he knew Dally was hiding under his jacket. "You oughtta stay at our place tonight."

"You don't tell me what to do."

Darry digested that. There was only so much heart to heart he could force on Dallas. He wasn't his kid brother, anyway. And Darry was damned glad of that. Soda was more than enough trouble and he wasn't a hundredth of the trouble Dallas was.

As if to prove it, Soda pulled in to the curb and hit the brakes at the last minute, tires squealing on the slippery pavement. Beside him Dally jumped, and Darry rolled his eyes.

The kid was strung so tight Darry could feel the heat coming off of him, and as the truck finally squeaked to a stop in front of them he suddenly burst out:

"Don't tell Soda."

Darry bit back a grin. "Yeah," he said, and meant it. "Don't worry, buddy. I got your back."


End file.
